This is Where We Part Our Ways
by Pizzagames
Summary: Sometime in season 5, when Bakura's master plan begins to fall into place, he runs into Marik, while in his absence, has changed his allegiance-to the Pharaoh. Bakura is outraged, and Marik has nothing to say to make it any better.


**A/N: I don't think I've ever posted Thiefshipping on here! I hope I did okay. I tried to stick with their canon personalities, but it's been a while since I've watched Yugioh... oh geez.**

"Nobody told me you were alive."  
The statement had no effect on the other boy, the one confronting him with his shaking hands gripped tightly on Marik's upper arms.  
"Why are you helping the Pharaoh?" Bakura repeated, shaking Marik slightly. It had been months since their last encounter. Bakura looked healthier than before: his skin was less pale, the circles on his eyes were less dark, his hair looked smoother, longer. He appeared healthier, and Marik was glad about that, but something was odd about him. He seemed paranoid and he couldn't seem to be able to focus on what Marik was saying.  
"Answer me, Marik." He almost sounded panicked, and when his grip tightened again ever so slightly, Marik knew something had happened to him.  
"Where have you been?" Marik asked, aware that his words probably wouldn't comprehend. "Last time I saw you, he- I-"  
"You gave him the Millennium Rod!" Bakura screamed at him. Marik was in awe, barely able to focus on what he was saying. He was sure Bakura currently felt the same way All he cared about was the sound of his voice. He had missed it, for a while, before coming to terms with the reality that Bakura, his ally and first friend, had horrible intentions for the Pharaoh his family had sworn to protect. He hadn't thought of the possibility of him being alive- he couldn't go back on his word to the Pharaoh now, so of course Bakura felt betrayed.  
"I trusted you, I told you I would come back, but you helped him! I need that rod, I _need_ it," he said, emphasizing his desire.  
Finally blinking into reality, Marik understood. He knew he had betrayed Bakura, but Bakura was wrong about everything. Marik knew better now.  
"You can't keep living this way, Bakura," Marik said, bringing his hands up to cover Bakura's shoulders.  
Bakura, not exiting the awkward embrace, continued to rage against Marik. "I'll never be able to get revenge now, and it's all your fault!"  
"Please don't say that." Marik frowned. Bakura would not let go of him and his gaze constantly shifted. Suddenly, without any warning, Bakura took the front of his jacket and pulled him closer.  
"Why are you helping the Pharaoh?" The original question.  
"He..." Marik sighed, his mind raced. Why had he given up his rod, anyway? There was definitely something more than just the idea that his family was sworn to aid him. He didn't know how to put it into words.  
If Bakura didn't have as much pride as he did, he probably could have cried. He was hysterical, choking on his words, and, to be frank, he sounded a bit tipsy. He didn't say anything now, but he wouldn't let go of Marik.  
"I helped him because he helped me. That's all. I'm sorry. I-"  
"Do you know how many Millennium Items I have now?" Bakura hissed. He let go of Marik's collar with one hand and gripped his millennium ring with it. Waving it between their faces, he said, "This is all I have. Do you know what this means to me?"  
To be honest, Bakura never did specify why he needed the items. Their deal had been that Bakura got the rod when Marik got the God Cards, no questions asked. He shook his head.

Bakura's eyes suddenly locked to focus on Marik's. Sounding even more hysterical than before, he slurred, "My friends and family were all murdered, Marik." His voice caught on Marik's name, and he took a second to clear his throat before continuing. "At _his_- at the Pharaoh's order. I watched them come in and take them that night. They dragged them out by the hair, the ankles, whatever they found first. I watched it all in hiding. In my house. My sister. My sister! I watched her. Not a one of those men looked guilty when they threw her in. And do you know what came of my family's sacrifice? Of everyone's sacrifice? Those cursed Millennium Items! _I'll be damned_ if I don't get what's rightfully mine! And you gave away the rod to the most unworthy vermin the gods could create."

Marik hesitated. It was like talking to someone at the edge of a cliff. He felt as if one wrong word would send Bakura plummeting off the edge. His silence queued Bakura on.

"And now the Pharaoh wants them so he can come back to the afterlife? He doesn't deserve an eternity with anyone but the devil."  
Marik knew that there had to be more to this story, but he didn't press anything. He was torn. He literally was born to be on the Pharaoh's side. Despite that, he felt regret after what Bakura had said. Another question lingered among his thoughts: How was Bakura even here? In the battle city finals, he had watched him give up both the ring and his life. Marik was already comforting himself with that, reminding himself that at the time he knew it was the only thing he could do.  
Bakura's grip slackened on Marik's collar. It would not have taken very much effort for Marik to have escaped his grasp now, but something about Bakura's closeness made him feel better. No matter what, they were friends, and Marik wouldn't forget that. But now, for as close as their bodies were, Marik honestly didn't want Bakura to let go.  
He needed to say something, as it was obvious Bakura was done talking. "You waited thousands of years for this," he said quietly, shifting his focus from one side of Bakura's face to the other, looking for some kind of indication that he hadn't said something wrong. His scowl did not fade, his eyebrows did not raise. "Neither of you even have your own bodies anymore."  
"No, not right now, but I will," Bakura growled, but said nothing more, leaving Marik more confused than before.

"What are you going to do?" Marik asked in a whisper.

"I'm going to go back and take what's mine," Bakura deadpanned. "And I'm going to kill him and make him pay for his family's crime."  
Go back? He couldn't go back. But Marik still had that metaphorical cliff beneath him, and questioning his intentions may cause the ground beneath him to fall away.  
"I can't help you," Marik said, truly sorry.  
"You could have. But now, just like the Pharaoh I so despise, I will ensure you his same fate."  
Something was truly undone in Bakura. Marik searched his eyes for any signs of a bluff, but to no surprise, found none. He had done his duty to aid the Pharaoh, his death here would mean nothing to anyone. So he was not afraid. Instead, he pulled his shoulders back and fixed his posture.  
"I'm sorry it had to come to this for you," Marik said. Bakura's threat had indeed frightened him to where these words may be his last, and it showed, for his voice had broken and the last of his sentence was choked.  
Everything Marik had said was loaded in some way. Perhaps this had been what inspired Bakura's next move. The ground shifted between them and Marik could practically feel Bakura's consciousness falling away. His hands dropped completely from Marik's body, and his head fell forward into Marik's chest.  
Seconds passed, and despite how dark Bakura was acting, Marik felt pity. In just the few seconds between Bakura giving up and the current moment, a million thoughts crossed Marik's mind. Was he really going through with this still? Was he going to die? Could he possibly talk Bakura out of it all?  
But talking him out of it was not on Marik's agenda. He was certain his negotiations would be for nothing.  
Marik reached his arms around to grip Bakura in an awkward hug. Bakura's hands remained dangling downwards lifelessly. As uncomfortable as he was at the moment, he felt this was the right thing to do. Bakura didn't respond, but Marik didn't care.  
An impulse quickly washed over him, and like a sailor to a siren, he didn't fight it. He brought his hands upwards and pulled Bakura away from his chest gently by his hair. Guilt was evident on Bakura's face, and he refused to meet Marik's eyes. It made no difference to Marik. He took a deep breath like was nervous, and with his hands around the sides of Bakura's head, Marik rather forcibly pulled Bakura towards his own face in a kiss.  
Sometimes people described kisses like they were happening in slow motion, but Marik didn't feel that way. Bakura did not pull away, in fact, he had regained his arms and placed them on Marik's waist and Marik could swear Bakura turned his head to the side and actually mirrored his action. Regardless, Marik didn't let it last long. He stepped back, completely letting go leaving Bakura to support himself fully.  
Neither of them spoke, and though Marik would have waited forever to hear Bakura say anything more, he spoke first.  
"I can't betray my own family. I have my side and you have yours, but I'll be rooting for you."  
Marik did not wait before turning away, leaving Bakura, who looked more lost than ever before.


End file.
